


one good honest kiss

by consumed



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26063221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumed/pseuds/consumed
Summary: Give me one good honest kiss and I'll be alright.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 241





	one good honest kiss

**Author's Note:**

> really needed to let this one out, boys. i have a disease. it's called being sakuatsuist and i want to write anything about them.

They're watching TV. The commercial runs its course when—

"I want to look at you," Kiyoomi says, easily, from where he lies on Atsumu's bed, mildly inebriated.

Hard to doubt he's anything but that, Atsumu thinks, looking back at him, eyes wide in shock. Kiyoomi, sober, would never confess a desire to carry out such an intimate gesture. Not to Atsumu, and definitely not where it concerns him.

Atsumu recounts the event anyway. Kiyoomi had said it after the commercial, almost as though he'd been anticipating its end then plunged into an opening, taking the gateway to desire. Still, Atsumu concedes to construing it in a searching manner. As far as he knows, Kiyoomi would not give in to his desire, nor would it exist in the first place. Atsumu was not desirable in his eyes. It was simply his fundamental self-importance speaking to himself, tinged with hope, blood red in its intensity. Hope in what exactly? Being desirable in his eyes, just as he is in Atsumu's.

It would be a second-rate lie to admit to anything but acting on selfishness when he pulls himself up from the floor effortlessly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, adjacent to Kiyoomi's head where it's propped up on his hand. Because he  _ does _ do it out of selfishness, wanting to grow closer to the idea that Kiyoomi's actions were made with romantic intent.

"I can't look at you properly like this," Kiyoomi observes, disgruntled. He lies on his back and does as he wishes, looking at Atsumu. And, either Atsumu has managed a great sense of self-discipline or Kiyoomi's gaze bears a calmness to it that’s infectious—looking and being looked back at has him awash with tenderness, and that is comforting to Atsumu.

They’ve been scrutinizing each other for too long a while; he smiles as shyness catches up to him. His words say otherwise. "Like what you see?" He can't help it, it comes naturally—his frivolity.

For the second time that night, Kiyoomi shocks him. "There's something about looking at you that forges this irrevocable feeling. I can't see you and not feel it."

"Feel what, Omi-kun?" Atsumu says his name for added effect. The night was heading towards a direction they have never gone to together. He’s imagined this, once. Thinks about how an inebriated Kiyoomi has never been this riveting. Thinks about the weight of meaning and how both words and its absence carry it. Kiyoomi, in all his inebriated stupor, was unveiling, and Atsumu bore witness to it.

"Warmth." Something was happening to Kiyoomi, his words plucked with care, putting them in their place, where they belong, and in doing so, under the same light, putting the two of them, friends, in their place, where they belong.

Perhaps it’s his self-importance tinged with blood red hope that commands the hand that comes to rest on Kiyoomi's cheek. Either way, Atsumu’s skin comes in contact with his. If Kiyoomi was allowing himself to be vulnerable, Atsumu would too.

They were connected in many ways now. The thought fills Atsumu up, he has to breathe to let some of its weight go. His thumb is on the corner of Kiyoomi’s mouth. He imagines laying it there, in the middle, dipping it into the pink, wet opening, grazing Kiyoomi’s teeth. Atsumu takes another deep breath. Kiyoomi catches the movement his lips make and says, “Must be just as warm up there.”

Atsumu can feel his veil of self-control tear a little at the seams, imagination slipping through and running wild in a field. The ghost of the words  _ I want to kiss you _ rests on the tip of his tongue. He closes his eyes, enraptured. “You’re drunk,” he manages, lousily. He comes close to believing he’s not quite the silvertongue he is tonight.

“And you’ve got your hand on my cheek.” Kiyoomi points out and after a while, almost soberly commands, “Kiss me, Miya.”

Everything about him was sultry. Atsumu was consumed with the idea of him apart from the actuality, coming undone in his hand, still on Kiyoomi’s cheek. He leans down and obeys him.

When their lips meet, Atsumu becomes attached to the sensation their softness brings over him. He purses his lips, coming up for air. “Fuck,” he breathes.  _ I like you, _ he doesn’t say.  _ I’ve liked you for a while but you’re my best friend. _ And one of them is drunk, but they’re kissing, and god, he’s so selfish, he pulls away, sits upright. He’s so selfish.

“You’re panicking,” Kiyoomi notes, heedful.

“That felt way too good,” Atsumu admits, somber. “Omi-kun, you’re drunk. I shouldn’t have.”

“Miya, I made you do it. And I’m not as drunk as you think. Just lethargic.” Kiyoomi turns so that he’s resting on his elbow, gazing up at Atsumu.

He breathes a laugh. “Friends don’t kiss.”

“Friends don’t look at each other the way you look at me,” Kiyoomi retorts.

Atsumu can feel his gaze on him the entire time he speaks, but he can’t get himself to return it, too wrapped up in the rude awakening that seizes him. This confirms he was never subtle, that his desire had been a thing too alive to be mistaken otherwise. He wants to ask Kiyoomi the exact moment he pieced it all together, but before he can, Kiyoomi speaks again.

“Am I too mortifying to be the object of your desire?” Kiyoomi asks, without an ounce of offense, in fact: open-faced.

Atsumu laughs. “Omi-kun, you’re the only person I’ve ever liked. And I like to think I have exquisite taste.”

“There’s my guy.”

This is when Atsumu decides that perhaps he can be himself without reserve around Kiyoomi, because in this way, he has cared for Atsumu. It fills him with the feeling of warmth Kiyoomi speaks of when he looks at Atsumu. He smiles, mostly to himself and feels so much as sees Kiyoomi mirror him.

He’s on top of the world when Kiyoomi initiates the next kiss, and the next, and the next. Two best friends who kiss and look at one another like they do each other. The TV runs in the background the whole time. The night is young and tomorrow will come.

**Author's Note:**

> may i have a crumb of kudos/comment?


End file.
